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Warning: This fic is crack. But I do like to think its crack with plot; it does have some sort of goal -- albeit I have no idea what that goal is. The summary, for once, is pretty accurate: the basic idea behind this story is the characters of G/S/C (who I personally think are different from HG/SS … maybe not Silver, but eh) are writing their own story. Back when I first started this story in ‘07, there were actually very little stories based on these characters.

Next point is names. Years ago, people were freaking out that I was using Gold’s dubbed anime name, which is Jimmy, so I went back to calling him Kenta. Kris is Marina, and Silver is Kamon. I have no idea where Kamon came from. I think it’s just a fandom thing. They are more based off their anime counterparts than their game counterparts personality-wise, but their background comes from the games.

Anything in italics is the three trainers' own “writing.” Anything not in italics is the “actual” story. I make it sound more complicated than it really is, but it's pretty easy to understand once you read it.

Enjoy!

.................................................
From the Middle of Nowhere
.................................................

“For real. Have mercy on her, Entei, for she doth not knoweth anything.”

“I don’t think ‘knoweth is a word, Kenta.”

“Says your face.”

“What face?”

“I hate the fact that you repeated 'forgotten' in one line. You already made our fan fic sh[fon=verdana]i[/font]tty, Marina. Maybe that's why no one likes writing about us.”

“I can’t tell who’s talking right now. I want to say its Kamon because that sounds like something that jerk-face would say. And you know what? Maybe it's you–”

“And your face!”

“Now I know that’s Kenta.”

“Your face.”

“No one has faces. Stop saying ‘your face.’”

“Fine. Your lack of face.”

A lone laptop, its bright glow illuminated the pitch-dark room, sat on top of a polished chestnut tabletop, a black leather chair positioned behind it. The laptop and table seemed to be the only things in the room, but eerily enough, the letters on the computer keyboard were being pressed into like someone was typing. The clatter of plastic against plastic rattled throughout the empty room. Someone’s thumbs were drumming against the space bar, echoing a hollow sound. The chair started to turn by itself, small twists left and right like someone was moving it by using their feet. The chair groaned – whoever was there leaning back in the chair as the back of the chair angled itself before snapping back straight.

“I suppose we should make our bodies now,” the girl voice known as Marina commented as her invisible fingers darted down toward different letters on the keyboard. Words began to magically appear on the computer screen before the invisible hands quickly deleted them with the touch of the backspace button.

“I guess, but it doesn't matter because either way I can kick Kamon's behind whether it's real or not,” a voice, rather deep in depth, answered back. By his tone, it was obvious that a smug smirk made its way toward his face.

“Ha. Okay,” another voice of a boy replied back, sarcasm dripping off his tongue.

The sapphire orbs of a young girl rolled inside her head as her two friends bickered at each other for another idiotic reason. The girl combed her hands through her thick locks of cerulean hair which were clipped up high into a pair of pigtails that swung from front to back in even the gentlest of winds. Her bangs teased her forehead, which were really annoying when frustration overcame her thoughts. A sigh escaped through her soft, pink lips as she gently brushed her bangs out of her eyes.

Slowly but surely, said features that the ghostly hands typed began to appear out of thin air. First was the blue of the girl's eyes followed by the girl's blue pigtails that bounced with each movement. Her facial structure was next, strong cheekbones with a slightly pointy nose. Judgmental eyebrows were raised, the right one higher than the left. She lifted her arms, fingers wiggling in the empty black space above her, before dropping themselves back down onto the desk with a loud thump.

“Fantastic information dumping,” Kamon muttered.

“What is that? Who are you talking to? Me?” the girl asked, curling her “soft, pink lips.” She rolled herself back in the leather arm chair and crossed her legs at the ankle, admiring her sneakers.

“Ah ... well, never mind.”

The other voice had something else on mind. “Hey look, Kamon,” the other male voice remarked. “Marina has a face. Now can I say ‘your face?’”

“How can you see it? You don't have eyes yet.”

“Well, how can you hear me? You don't have ears.”

“How can you even talk? You don't have a mouth. Let's keep it that way.”

“The logic of this story confuses me.”

Out of Marina's now developed mouth came a soft and almost gentle laugh that rung throughout the emptiness of the room. “Well, I guess I've got to finish the rest of me.”

The girl straightened out her undershirt (which was the light color of coral pink) before pushing up the sleeves of her button-up white shirt to her elbows. This was useless though for the sleeves made their way back down, only adding up to the girl's frustration from the two boys' bickering. She hooked her thumbs on the elastic belt of her tight, yellow shorts as she kicked up the sandy ground with her shoes. The dirt rose from the girl's kick of annoyance, making her nostrils tingle. Marina, the girl, wiped her brow with her sleeve as she watched the boys continue to fight, her face screwed up in both amusement and anger.

A small cough found its way out of Marina's mouth as her body and clothes began to develop from her pink blouse to yellow shorts.

“I like 'em shorts, Marina.”

“I betcha do.” She winked back to the black space in return. She kicked her legs in front of her, and, just like in the story she had partially written, kicked up the brown dust that swirled around the laptop.

“It's called sarcasm.”

“Sure, Kenta, whatever you say. I know you love me.” The blue-haired girl grinned to herself, her eyes darting back and forth as she read over what she typed so far. “I suppose I've got to make you guys now.”

Meanwhile, as the girl finished off her hacking fit, the two boys continue to bicker, oblivious to her. One of them pumped his fist in the air as if it would help him prove his point, his brown eyes aflame from the exciting argument – though he would deny it if asked if it was. Like the girl, this boy had black bangs that came out from the hole in his backward yellow baseball cap in a rainbow-like arch. The sleeves of his red and white jacket were pushed down as he raised his fist in the air again. His baggy black and yellow shorts were loosely hung from his hips, almost meeting the tongues of his shoes.

The other boy, however, was opposite of the other boy in training, appearance, and of course, debating. This boy's hands were shoved deeply within the pockets of his stormy-gray slacks, the sleeves of his red and black sweater being crinkled slightly. He flicked his red hair out of his crimson eyes with a swift movement of his head – a movement showing off the characteristics of arrogance and pride. He seemed calm and collected despite the crude comments coming out of his mouth that retaliated against the other boy's remarks. This boy was known as Kamon and the one with the yellow shorts Kenta.

Hazy at first, two figures of two boys began to magically appear into the empty airspace.

“Again, great thesaurus use,” Kamon said, clenching his left fist and staring at his nail beds. He shook his head, layers of hair brushing behind his shoulders. “This time for colors, too.”

“You say it like it’s a bad thing.” She snorted. “Don’t fancy pants words make your story better or something?”

“Actually–”

“Hey! I'm a real boy!” Kenta interrupted in excitement as he raised his arms in the air and spun around in victory. “At least fan fiction-wise. And there's dirt on the ground! Awesome, Marina! Why am I talking so loud? Why am I so fucking excited?!”

The red-haired trainer rolled his eyes at the other boy's antics as Kenta bent down and started to draw swirls in the dirt, rolling pebbles into his nails. With his belly pressed against the edge, he craned over the desk, neck turned, so he could see the laptop’s screen. He read over what Marina had recently typed, clucking his tongue in disapproval. “You describe funny. And heavily, I might add,” Kamon remarked haughtily. He brushed off Marina’s glare by raising his eyebrows. “'The one with the yellow shorts,' huh? That could mean you.”

Kenta, who in his enthusiasm had lay down in the dirt and tried to make “dirt angels,” immediately sat up, nose wrinkled. “You mean someone could mistake me for a girl? And her of all girls?”

Marina rolled back in her chair so she could take a full look at Kenta and put her hands on her hips, fuming, eyebrows furrowing together. “Oh? And what’s wrong with me of all girls?” she demanded, nostrils flaring.

Kenta only grinned. “You’re unique and one of a kind, and no one could ever take your place, baby.” He winked at her, causing her to groan in response.

“So suave,” Kamon mumbled under his breath, pushing his body back up and sitting on top of the table, the balls of his feet pressed delicately against the ground. He crossed his arms, pressing them against his stomach.

Kenta hopped back onto his feet and brushed the dirt off his clothes. “Oh, you know. Practice,” he said idly, running his fingers down his t-shirt only to smack them against his shorts afterward. He strolled over to Marina, whose eyes were still wary from Kenta’s response, and grabbed the back of her chair, pushing her gently to the side so he could have room in front of the laptop. “All right,” he said, grinding his feet against the ground and letting the sand crunch underneath his soles. He cracked his knuckles and lightly placing his fingers on the keyboard, his body bending over a bit so his face was directly in front of the laptop’s screen. “We're going to fix this problem.”

Kenta, the yellow shorts man, punched Kamon in the face with a powerful blow to the cheek. Kamon stumbled back in surprise and horror, his bangs falling into his eyes, blocking his vision. The redhead landed on his rear before his head met the hard, dirt ground. With arms and legs in an eagle-spread position, Kamon whimpered as the other boy hovered over him, his face in a menacing scowl, his fists clenched by his sides.

“Now look what you made me do!” Kenta shouted in quite a bellow. Like a loud bellow. Like a clock tower bellow. He flicked his bangs upward, his eyes angry and narrowed.

“Stop, please, Ken–yssdfjkl; f

Kenta's paragraph was interrupted mid-dialogue as Kamon turned around and jumped him, knocking the two of them down with the redhead on top. Kenta let out a yelp in shock as he found himself on the dirt road of the room in the blink of an eye, Kamon pinning him down by the neck with one of his free hands, his right knee sinking into Kenta's stomach. His hair draped around the sides of his face; his mouth was in a grin. Dust swirled around them, diluting the black space around them.

“'Now look what you made me do,'” Kamon mocked as he held his other fist above Kenta's face. He slowly gripped tighter around Kenta's neck, choking him painfully slow. Kenta’s limbs flailed, trying to kick off the trainer on top of him, but Kamon was anchored; if anything, his movements seemed to strengthen his rival’s grip.

“For lugia’s sake,” Marina muttered pitifully, resting her right elbow on the arm of the chair. She dropped her head into her open palm and refused to look up, staring at the pockets of her shorts and musing how ridiculously short her shorts were in the first place.

Holding his breath and trying not to swallow, Kenta eventually managed to kick Kamon off with his right leg, landing a blow directly on Kamon’s shin. With a few seconds of freedom, the black-haired boy quickly stood back up on his feet, his eyes narrowed in half indignation and half pain. But he couldn’t help it; he had to get the last jab in. He spat at Kamon's feet. The spit was bubbly and white, a bubble popping every few seconds before being absorbed into the dirt. Kamon rolled onto his back and positioned himself so that he was supported by the back of his arms. He stared. Kenta stared. Marina facepalmed.

Silence.

Kamon’s eyes darted between the wet spot of earth and Kenta’s smug grin. As Kenta ran a pointer finger around the brim of his sweaty cap, his weight shifted to his left leg, Kamon pushed himself back onto his feet. “Very mature,” he said coolly, hands laced behind his back, eyebrows raised. “But please let me return your maturity with some of my own.” The redhead dug the ball of his foot into the sandy floor and unlaced his hands as Kenta stared at him, left cheek scrunched up in amusement. Marina finally looked up, sighing to herself. She leaned back in the chair, the back spring groaning. Her heels dug into the ground.

“Bring it, you–” A punch to the mouth interrupted Kenta mid-sentence as Kamon’s fist met his mouth. Kenta stumbled back and barely had time to register what happened before Kamon flew at him again, tackling the both of them to the ground in a heap. The two of them rolled around, and if Marina knew better, it looked like the two were in a loving embrace, their limbs wrapped around each other. Kamon’s hair was tangling itself around Kenta’s face. She saw Kenta’s hat fly off and land a couple of feet away (“My hat!” the boy whined), and he tried to scramble to grab it, but Kamon dragged him back toward him.

“How sweet,” she muttered sarcastically before lightly scraping her front teeth against her bottom lip. Marina jumped onto her feet and walked over to the wrestling boys, lightly prodding the pile with her sneaker. “Okay, okay. That’s enough, you morons. You both are acting like a bunch of primeape.”

Kenta pulled away from the heap and rolled away two times to reach his hat. “He started it,” he complained, throwing his hat back on and pulling his bangs through the back hole. He remained on his back as Kamon sat up and brushed the dirt off his clothing.

“You’re the one that wrote that scene,” she reminded, hands on her hip as she peered over him. “Look. Do you remember why we’re here?”

“You wrote some shittastic information dumping descriptive prose that brought us, and some dirt road that leads to nowhere, here?” Kamon answered.

“I still have no idea who you’re talking to.” She tapped her foot to an unheard beat, right thigh shaking. “Anyway” –Marina’s eyes went up to look at the black air space above her–“we’re here because no one likes to write about us. Or they don’t write about us that often. If you compare the ratio of Red and Blue fics out there, or even those silly little Hoenn trainers, or Shinnoh or Sinnoh or whatever it’s called, we’re pretty much ... pretty much–”

“Forgotten? Lost? Behind? Forgotten?”

“Eff you, Kamon.” Marina scowled as Kamon smirked, pushing himself back onto his feet. “So let’s think. We have full control of our destinies. What else should we write about?”

Kenta smiled cheekily. “Well, I believe I was in the middle of punching the lights out of Kamon.” He nudged the redhead trainer lightly who only socked him hard at the shoulder blade in return.

“That reminds me.” Marina bent over and highlighted Kenta's paragraphs with the computer mouse. “Now you see it”–she pressed the backspace button–“and now you don't!”

“Hey!” Kenta protested, his eyes widening at the sight of his hard work being deleted. “You didn't know where I was going with that!”

Kamon snorted. “And where were you going with it, Kenta? Were you going to have the aliens come and eat my body?”

“Please!” Kenta raised his arms and flicked his bangs. “Please! I have a better imagination than that. It’s even better.”

“Oh?” Marina strolled over to her chair and plopped into it, sinking into the leather. “What would that be?” she asked, resting her arms on the chair’s handles and curling her fingers over the edge.

“I was going to have the aliens land, eat Kamon’s body while I sweep you off into the distance in a romantic sort of embrace.”

“Ah, right. Shipping is totally a way to get reviewers,” Kamon remarked as Marina stared at Kenta funnily, blue eyes blinking rapidly.

“I know. These ‘reviewer’ people like it for some reason I don’t understand. ‘So kyyy-ute!’ Insert some sort of emoticon, preferably the one with the carats as eyes and the underscore as a mouth.”

Marina awkwardly fidgeted, turning the chair back and forth with her feet. “Right. Story time.” She pulled herself back toward the chestnut desk and stared at the word processor, the whiteness of the screen casting her skin in a pale light. “What should our story be about?” She tapped her fingers on the keyboard. “Action? Adventure? Romance? I know you want that, Kenta.”

Kenta rolled his eyes. “Yet again, I repeat, sarcasm.”

Kamon ran a hand through his loose locks of hair as he bent next to Marina and stared at the computer screen with her. “Well, let's think about what we have so far. We've got the three of us standing in the middle of a dirt road, apparently, with Kenta and me fighting. Wow, the possibilities are endless.”

“No need for sarcasm, Kamon, because Kenta has that characteristic apparently,” Marina commented coolly as Kenta smiled sheepishly at her. “We've obviously got to think of a plot that will beat all the other game characters out there. But what?”

Kamon stared at the screen grimly. “This fan fic crap is harder than it looks.”

Oh well. Very cool stuff, can't wait for the next chapter, blahblahblah... oh, wait, comments. Ahem... basically, I like the way you write it, and the characterizations are decent... if taken as very comedic. I don't exactly like all of it, but I'm biased like that, sorry.

So I was reading my old stories (well, glancing more so), and I happened to notice this wonderful piece of fiction called The Lost Chronicles of Johto. So it made me wonder why I didn't want to update this fic. Too many adventure fics can get a girl confused, I guess. But either way, I think it'd be a good idea if I kicked this back up. It should be fun. Right?

All right. So there's a Raikou in the middle of the dirt road where the three trainers are standing.

Kenta gasped in delight and jumped up and down like a giddy schoolgirl when he saw the Raikou begin to form in front of his eyes. The beast let out a tremendous roar from its fierce face, electricity pulsing from his muscular, golden body speckled with black bolts. Its light blue, lightning bolt-shaped tail flickered back and both rapidly. The purple fluff of fur that resembled thunder clouds wavered in the wind. Raikou glared viciously at the three trainers with his sharp, menacing eyes.

The Raikou, gathering up courage, asked Marina for his hand in marriage.

Raikou was about to pounce on top of a screaming Marina when Kamon quickly deleted Kenta's writing, causing the Raikou to disappear in a poof of smoke and the other boy to sock him in the arm.

“What was that for?”

“You so lost your writing privileges,” Kamon replied coolly, pushing Kenta out of the seat and sitting down in it. “This is serious, Kenta. If we want people to remember us, we have to be serious.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“Well, that's dumb.” Kenta sighed, blowing his bangs up. “What's the point of writing if it can't be fun?”

“It can be fun!” disagreed Marina, leaning her hands on the back of the chair. She scuffed the ball of her foot on the ground, lightly kicking up dirt. “We just need a basic plot to start off with. But no plain trainer fics. There are plenty of those with these ... 'O.Ts' running around.”

“O.Ts? Short for ... otters?” suggested Kenta, relaxing on the ground. He fell backward and leaned his head against the open palm of his hands.

“Uh. Maybe. I'm not too sure myself. But these 'O.Ts' get more reviews and stories made about them than we do.”

“What? You mean we're being beaten out by a bunch of wood chewers?”

“Those are beavers, Kenta.”

“Fine, we're being beaten out by a bunch of long-nosed, two ton freaks?”

“What the hell?” Kamon swiveled around in the chair and stared at Kenta for a moment. “Those are elephants. At least you were remotely close with beavers. Moron.”

“Eff that! I can make a long-nosed, two ton otter if I want. I just got to type it out!” And with that Kenta hopped back onto his feet only to be pushed back down by Kamon.

Marina shook her head. “So abusive to him, Kamon.”

“It's not like he doesn't deserve it.” Kamon swiveled back toward the computer screen, tapping his hands lightly on the keys. “All right. So no basic trainer fics. And we're not copying our game plot, that's for sure. You two had a special appearance, didn't you?”

Kenta sat back up, rubbing the back of his head, his eyes closed. “Yeah,” he muttered. “In the Pokémon Chronicles.”

“Ah, the series that shows the characters that no one cares about.”

“Yeah. Like I'm that interested in what those pesky Pichu Brothers got themselves into this week. But anyway, Marina and I had to rescue Raikou from Team Rocket who were using this crystal machine or something like that. Epic battle here, epic battle there, that's said and done. And that's about it. Marina was a real sissy in it, always getting tied up and whatnot. Junichi was there too.”

Kenta looked up at Marina thoughtfully. “It does make sense. He was very eager to rescue you from Team Rocket. So maybe he does. He did tell me to back off from you before the actual plot began.” He then glanced down toward his lap for a quick second, a trace of sadness flickering over his face, before looking up at the two again, a smile back abroad on his face.

“We should conjure him,” said Kamon jokingly, pretending to type out Junichi's description.

“No!” Kenta and Marina shouted at once.

“Er – I mean he wasn't anywhere in the game, so why would he be with us?” Kenta quickly covered up, standing up and leaning against the table.

“But we're not basing this on our game.”

“It's just a ... dumb idea, Kamon.”

“All right. I was kidding anyway.”

Awkward silence filled the area despite the Pidgeys cooing in their nests and the rustling of leaves from other Pokémon in the bushes that lined the dirt road. A cloud passed over the sun, casting the three trainers in a gloomy sort of light.

Kamon rested his head on his hand, tapping the polished table with his other. “Anyway,” he muttered, “I figure we should at least get to a town. Maybe come up on a small problem. Just to get started. Most 'fics start off light-hearted.” Kamon furrowed his brow and began to type rapidly.

“I told you! Goldenrod City is that way!” Kenta shouted, pointing east, while Kamon crossed his arms, still pointed in the west direction. “That road leads to no where!”

“Like I'm going to listen to someone who doesn't even know where his own house is,” snorted Kamon, closing his bright, silver eyes.

“Stop right there,” Marina said, swiveling Kamon around in his chair and peering into his eyes. “Last time I typed, I said your eyes were red.”

Surely enough, Kamon's piercing red eyes turned into a cool silver.

“Don't tell me that you have that stupid my-eye-color-reflects-my-mood trait,” Marina said in disgust.

“My eyes were always silver,” Kamon replied. “I don't know why you wrote they were red in the first place.”

“Oh, I've read some of those color mood eye 'ficcys or whatever they're called,” Kenta remarked, pulling an apple out of his bag and biting into it with a juicy crunch. He chewed it thoughtfully before swallowing. “They're always girls. Well usually. 'Her eyes were a bright blue because she was getting her first Pokémon today, indicating she was happy.' Well, obviously she's going to be happy! Any trainer would be happy to get her first Pokémon. We don't need your eyes to tell us that.”

“That was actually ... smart, Kenta.”

“Thanks, Marina! I've also noticed that they don't have an eye color for horny either.”

“... And we're back at stupid.”

Kenta smiled smugly as Kamon shook his head and went back to typing.

“I do too know where my house is,” rebutted Kenta, frowning. “It's the ... one house with my ... mom in it.”

“How descriptive,” Kamon replied, rolling his eyes. “What do you think, Marina? Which way do you think is Goldenrod?”

Marina was looking down at her map, her eyes darting back and forth between it. “Where are we now anyway? This place doesn't even seem to be charted on the map! Great job, Kenta! You and your 'short-cuts.' There's too many darn trees here. It's hard to tell what part of the map is what.”

As soon as Kamon finished Marina's dialogue, massive trees began to sprout and grow from behind the bushes, towering over the trainers in a leafy canopy. Beams of sunlight speckled the dirt road from in between the entwined twigs. A disturbed Noctowl nearby hooted in distress while a slow moving Caterpie inched its way across the road.

Marina looked up from her map and noticed a clearing up ahead. Running ahead, she stopped in the clearing and looked around, gazing happily. “I have to admit,” she said, “you did pick a beautiful place to get lost at." Bending down, Marina, knee deep in long grass, plucked a particularly long and tough leafed plant from its roots. Fiddling with it between her fingers, she noticed a few Pokémon nearby, looking dazed and confused.

“It's what I do best. So did you figure out where we are yet?” asked Kenta from behind the girl trainer. “Just find this clearing on the map.”

Marina wasn't listening (and if she did, she ignored him), continuing to watch the Pokémon nearby. Most of them were Pokémon found commonly in the forest, like Rattatas and Pikachus, but they weren't acting normally. Some of them were spinning around on one foot while others were trying to slam their head into the ground. Nearby Caterpies were spinning sticky webs around each other while Hoothoots were flying into trees, getting back up, and repeating the process.

“What the hell?” Kenta exclaimed, finally noticing what Marina was in awe about. “What's wrong with these Pokémon?”

“Yeah, what's wrong with these Pokémon?” asked the real life Kenta, standing in the same position that Kamon wrote.

Marina, plant in hand and still on her knees, watched the Pokémon amusedly and dumbfound at the same time. “Where are you going with this? Are they doing a dance to celebrate something?”

“Psh, that's too goody-goody!” replied Kamon, still at the desk, hidden from view because of the computer screen. “If we're going to write about ourselves, let's not make us look like that. I'd kill myself before I was seen as ... nice.”

“How does it feel anyway? To be the meanest rival in the games I mean?” asked Kenta.

“Pretty damn good.” Kamon cracked his knuckles. “Well, I stumped myself on this one. I was on a roll until you interrupted.”

“Not my fault. You could have kept typing.”

“Meh. Any of you got any ideas?”

Marina shrugged. “Celebration dance!”

“For the last time, hell no, Marina. Besides, why would Hoothoots fly into trees to celebrate?”

“Because they can. Duh. Kind of like how you can be a jerk just to be one.”

“Whatever.”

Kenta began to snicker. “Heh, I got an idea. And a good one too.”

Kamon raised an eyebrow. “I banned your writing privileges.”

“Oh, c'mon!” shouted Kenta in response, slamming his foot into the ground. “It's not like you two have ideas! Plus this one is relevant to where we are now! I promise no random legends popping out of the ground again – well, for now.”

“Ugh, fine,” said Kamon, pushing the chair out from the desk and standing up. “But it better not be stupid which is a high expectation for you, I know.”

“It'll be awesome. I promise,” replied Kenta, laughing, running toward the desk and sitting in the chair, spinning around in it a few times. He stopped himself by grabbing a hold of the desk. He then began to type, his head coming dangerously close to the screen.

Kamon finally walked over to Marina, eyeing the dancing Pokémon wearily. “I don't think it's a tribal dance. There's too many different types of Pokémon wandering around. Even if it is a tribal dance for all the Pokemon to get together, there would be a prominent dance Pokémon leading it. This one is just a mix of everything. Maybe they hear a high pitched noise that's driving them mad.”

“Well if that's the case then I'm sure Pink can detect it.” Marina unbuckled a Pokéball from her belt and pressed the button in the center, enlarging it and throwing it toward an open area. The ball spiraled midair, the colors on the ball blurring together before it opened, releasing a ball of energy. The ball landed on the floor, shaping into a pink, bouncy creature, with big blue eyes and small pointed ears.

“Jiggly!” she cried, jumping up and down. She looked at the wild Pokémon up ahead and did a puppy head kind of lean with her entire body, just as confused as her trainer.

“Pink,” she asked her Pokémon, “do you hear any strange noises that could be causing the Pokémon to act this way?”

Kamon snickered. “Pink. What a dumb name.”

“Jigglypuff!” said Pink with a huff, blowing up her cheeks and floating up a few feet toward Kamon's face, promptly slapping him across the face.

Pink shook her head no, looking up at her trainer worriedly. She then noticed the plant clutched in Marina's and let out a giggle, grabbing it out of her hand.

“Well, then what could it be? It's kind of got me worried,” said Marina, standing up, looking around still. “Maybe there's something in the water?”

Kamon shook his head. “Nah. Our Pokémon drank from the closest lake here, and they seemed fine. Even your Jigglypuff drank some, and she's not loopy at all.” Kamon rubbed his chin in deep thought, eyes down toward the ground when he noticed the plant Pink was playing with. He watched in horror as the Jigglypuff opened and inserted the plant into her mouth. Quickly, Kamon bent over and pulled out the plant from her disgruntled mouth.

“Hey! That was rude!” Marina shouted, hopping onto her feet. “What was that for?”

“This isn't any plant, Marina,” Kamon replied, trying to wipe the slobber off of it. “Don't you know what this is?”

“Er, what?”

“Cannabis.”

“Cannabis!” shouted Kamon and Marina at the same time and then Pink, not sure what she was yelling about.

“Whaaat?” replied Kenta innocently, looking around the computer screen again, noticing his two friends' bewildered stares. He laughed and pushed himself from the desk a little bit to get a better look at them. “You should look at your faces right now.”

“Are you nuts?” screamed Marina, stamping her foot in the ground. “Cannabis?”

“Yes, Marina, cannabis. You know, short for cannabis sativa. Parts of it is illegal in some countries, it can be used for medical purposes, it's the reason why most basements with teenagers are hazy-”

“Yes, I know what it is!” she snapped. “We can't write about this!”

“Why not?” Kamon replied. “Pokémon nowadays is too goody-goody.”

“I'm very tired of that excuse, Kamon.”

“Well, it's true. We should put some reality in this fic. How many times have you seen this stuff growing outside those random cabins in the forest? Why do you think they're so far from civilization?”

“But still! Kids could be reading this! Besides, what is this chapter? The 1970s? First your mood ring-like eyes, Kamon, and now this?”

“And that's why this is rated PG-13, for teenagers.” Kenta grinned, pushing himself back into the chair. “Just be glad I didn't let Pink eat it.”

“Kenta, you're a jerk for even thinking that!”

“Yeah, yeah.” With that, Kenta waved off Marina's bickering with his hand and began to type again. “Something tells me that this story is just getting interesting.”

YAY BREEZEH IS ALIIIVE!!!!!!!!! Man I remember this. It was hilarious!!!
And of course it still is. It's very well done. ^^; I got nothing more to add soo.
jirachiman out
You gonna set up a PM list for new chapters???

Well if you decide on doing one, could you hook me up. ^^ And you still get on AIM everyonce in a while??? Our serebii chats have been few and sooo spread apart. We need more serebii peoples to be on at the same time. And we need patty too. lol
jirachiman out

My luck sucks... well, so does the site, but still. HOW COULD I NOT REVIEW THIS IN TIME?! *fnargls and stuff*

But anyway. This next part was decent, though Jimmy sure got the short(er) end of the stick... is it that fun to torture him by being the stupid guy of the trio? Usually I use Marina for that... oh well.

Best parts include Jimmy's smart rant on the eyes, everyone screaming because of what he was about to make Pink-chan eat, and, er... the rivalry. Why didn't they want to see Jackson in it, though? (Which, in my opinion, came a tad too fast and I don't get it.)

I could complain about the stupidity of Kenta's translated name, but that's not your fault. Plus, the story is too good to be distracted from such small details. This is probably the most original story I've seen in a long time. I enjoy the mix of sarcastic gestures, satire and tounge-in-cheek humor. I can't wait to read more!

I'm sorry!

I can not believe i haven"t review this yet... I love Johto fics... the first game i finished was gold after all... i'm leaving chapter one out of my review, and skipping on to chapter two...

The beast let out a tremendous roar from it's fierce face,

The beast let out a tremendous roar from its fierce face,

"Oh, I've read some of those color mood eye ficcys or whatever they're called," Jimmy remarked, pulling an apple out of his bag and biting into it with a juicy crunch. He chewed it thoughtfully before swallowing. "They're always girls. Well usually. 'Her eyes were a bright blue because she was getting her first Pokémon today, indicating she was happy.' Well, obviously she's going to be happy; any trainer would be happy to get their first Pokémon. We don't need your eyes to tell us that."

"That was actually . . . smart, Jimmy."

"Thanks Marina! I've also noticed that they don't have an eye color for horny either."

". . . . And we're back at stupid."

Stop! You’re killing me!!!

"I do to know where my house is," rebutted Jimmy, frowning. "It's the . . . one house with my . . . mom in it."

LOL!!!

"Not my fault. You could of kept typing."

"Not my fault. You could have kept typing."

there's too many different types of Pokémon

there're too many different types of Pokémon

"You should of made her dance when she sent out her Pokémon, Jimmy."

"You should have made her dance when she sent out her Pokémon, Jimmy."

*chuckles* Pretty funny. This has got to be one of the more original fics on here. I love Kenta, Marina amd Kamon (though I don't particularly like the dub names), so I always like Fics with them in it.

Switching back and forth between writing and them talking is nicely done, I like it. Grammer seems fine, so I'll cut to my favorite quotes:

Jimmy, the yellow shorts man, punched Kamon in the face with a powerful blow to the cheek. Kamon stumbled back in surprise and horror, his red bangs falling into his eyes, blocking his vision. The red-head landed on his rear before his head met the hard dirt ground. With arms and legs in an eagle-spread position, Kamon whimpered as the other boy hovered over him, his face in a menacing scowl, his fists clenched by his sides.

"Now look what you made me do!" Jimmy shouted in quite a bellow. He flicked his bangs upward, his chocolate-brown eyes still flaming in anger.

"Stop please Jim-fasdfjkl; f."

Jimmy's paragraph was interrupted mid-dialogue as Kamon flew at him, his own crimson orbs on fire, his fists out raised to push Jimmy down. The chocolate-eyed trainer let out a yelp in shock as he found himself on the dirt road of the room in the blink of an eye, Kamon pinning him down by the neck with one of his free hands, his knees sinking into Jimmy's stomach.

Yeah, that's Jimmy all right.

"Oh, I've read some of those color mood eye ficcys or whatever they're called," Jimmy remarked, pulling an apple out of his bag and biting into it with a juicy crunch. He chewed it thoughtfully before swallowing. "They're always girls. Well usually. 'Her eyes were a bright blue because she was getting her first Pokémon today, indicating she was happy.' Well, obviously she's going to be happy; any trainer would be happy to get their first Pokémon. We don't need your eyes to tell us that."

"That was actually . . . smart, Jimmy."

"Thanks Marina! I've also noticed that they don't have an eye color for horny either."

". . . . And we're back at stupid."

And yet again, I'm laughing uncontrolably.

"Cannabis?!" shouted Kamon and Marina at the same time, and then Pink-chan, not sure what she was yelling about.

"Whaaat?" replied Jimmy innocently, looking around the computer screen again, noticing his two friends' bewildered stares. He laughed and pushed himself from the desk a little bit to get a better look at them. "You should look at your faces right now."

"Are you nuts?!" screamed Marina, stamping her foot in the ground. "Cannabis?!"

"Yes, Marina, cannabis. You know, short for cannabis sativa. Parts of it is illegal in some countries, it can be used for medical purposes, it's the reason why most basements with teenagers are hazy-"

Rolling her eyes, Marina got up from the knee-deep grass and walked over to the computer table. Without the boys' knowledge, she quickly highlighted the “cannabis” part of the story and deleted it with a small smirk.

“Hey!” Kamon and Kenta cried at the same time, finally noticing what Marina had done when the Pokémon around them stopped dancing. They rushed over to the computer and pushed Marina – who was in the swivel chair – aside, frantically pressing keys on the computer.

“Ctrl-Z, ctrl-Z!” Kenta cried. “Hit it!”

“It’s not working!” Kamon shouted back, pounding the keyboard. The monitor began to fizzle and crackle from the beatings it was getting from the two boys before fading out and turning off with a sputter, making all three trainers gasp. Like the computer before them, their bodies and the world around them vanished, engulfing the room in darkness except for the blue power button of the computer.

“Oh, shit,” muttered Kamon, his invisible hands groping and reaching for the table the computer sat on. Finally gripping the hard wood of the desk, he used his invisible hands to feel his way to the tower of the computer. After successfully finding it, he pushed the power button, and the monitor turned on with a hiss and sizzle. The screen was blurry and oddly colored at first before reverting back to its normal state. A pop up asking to reconfigure its latest word document sat in the middle of the screen with the options of yes and no. Clicking yes, Kamon impatiently waited as the computer reconfigured the document. His waiting was not in vain for the story was successfully saved, cannabis and all.

“Kenta, the weed is back! The weed is saved!” Kamon said giddily as Kenta danced, chanting, “The weed, the weed!”

Marina watched curiously as her body began to shape again from the complicated twists of her hairstyle to the fine polish of her fingernails. The earth shook as the trees shot up and out of the ground like dandelions while Pokémon popped out of no where, most of them lolling about, looking around in a dazed state. The canopies of the trees shadowed over the three trainers, barely blocking the rays of the sun.

Sighing, Marina finally turned her attention to the two dancing boys. “Do we really have to have … that in our story?” she whined. “It is kind of inappropriate.”

“Oh, stop being such a prissy,” Kamon retorted, pulling the chair away from Marina and sitting in it. “It’s not like the story is going to solely be based on it anyway. It‘s just … I don‘t know – a plot twist? It‘s original you have to admit.”

Marina rubbed her chin for a bit, pondering, before grinned at the red-haired trainer. “Oh, you want original, huh?” she asked, advancing on the bewildered Kamon. “I’ll give you original. Move.”

“Don’t do it, man,” Kenta warned. “She’s going to steal the weed and sell it. You know how rich we can get if we sell this stuff?”

Marina punched Kenta lightly in the shoulder (yet the boy cried out in agony anyway), pulling the keyboard away from Kamon and sitting on the desk, the desk creaking from under her weight. With her head turned to the side to look at the monitor, she began to type.

“Think we should do something? Like lead them to a Pokémon Center, or something?” asked Marina, holding Pink-chan close to her chest.

Kamon rolled his eyes. “How are we suppose to lead them to a Pokémon Center if we don’t know where the hell we are?” He then promptly glared at Kenta who smiled back guiltily. “They’ll be fine. I don’t think eating it is that horrible. And smoking it isn’t that bad–”

“Oh? And how would you know that?” Marina demanded.

The red-haired trainer shrugged it off and walked past a group of giggling Oddish. Kenta and Marina looked at each other curiously before catching up to the cool-headed trainer. Walking ahead of Kamon and Kenta, Marina looked around curiously, taking in a deep breath to breathe in the fresh forest. Skipping ahead, loving the feel of the wind brushing through her hair, she stumbled upon a tiny little creature who was busy gnawing at his claws.

Stopping in her tracks, Marina walked up to it to examine the Pokémon closer. Its yellow paws were clenched tightly together, its tiny white teeth nibbling at its sharp claws. Its cute, fuzzy cheeks decorated with blue circles were stuffed with food as its long, brown ears twitched eagerly. Its curly, brown tail swatted the back of its hard, yellow shell, protecting is soft, furry white belly decorated with lightning bolts. It looked up at Marina with wide, blue eyes and chirped happily, smiling.

Marina, satisfied, hit enter, and slowly, the creature that Marina created came to life, starting from the bottom of his white, furry feet to the top of his pointed ears. Giddy, Marina hopped off the computer desk and ran toward the strange thing, carefully placing Pink on the floor and scooping up the other-worldly being instead.

Kamon wheeled himself away from the desk and stood up, scratching his head, looking at the weird sight. He opened his mouth a few times, a finger pointing up but stopped each time, too clueless to say anything. Finally, he managed to mutter out, “Marina, what the hell is that?”

Kenta snorted. “A deformity, that‘s what.”

The weird creature glared at Kenta from Marina‘s grasp, making Kenta glare back.

Marina smiled sheepishly. “It’s an … Eeveesquiramachu?”

Kamon slapped the palm of his hand against his forehead. “Your original idea was a fake Pokémon? A Fokémon?”

“I’m pretty sure they’re called Fakémon,” Kenta said, rolling his eyes to the side shiftily. “Either way, Marina, it looks like you went to some crappy Pokémon fan sprite site, picked one at random and stuck it in the ‘fic.”

“Not true,” Marina said, lowering her chin and nuzzling the Eeveesquiramachu’s head. “I made it on my own!”

“Marina, we can’t have … that thing in our ‘fic!” Kamon complained. “Having an originally made Pokémon is, well, unoriginal.”

“That’s ironic!” Marina argued back, sniffling. “It’s like … it’s like ten thousand spoons when all you need is knife.”

“It’s like raiiiinnn on your wedding day!” Kenta sang, holding an invisible microphone under his mouth, recognizing the song Marina quoted. “It’s a free rideeeee when you already paiddddd!”

“How is any of that ironic?” Kamon rebutted, unaware that it was a song period. “You can cut with your spoon or just rip it apart with your teeth. And rain on your wedding day? Really? I‘m also pretty sure you‘d get a refund if you already paid for a free ride.”

Marina sighed as Kenta rolled his eyes. “Stop being so literal,” she muttered.

“Aw, it’s so cute, isn’t it?” Marina said, scratching Eeveesquiramachu on the top of its head. Eeveesquiramachu purred, beating its leg against Marina’s stomach in pleasure.

Kamon gaped again, bewildered. “Did that … thing just talk?” he gasped out in disbelief.

“I sure did!” Eeveesquiramachu said triumphantly, jumping out of Marina’s arms and onto the ground pumping its tiny fist in the air. “I am that cool!”

“Okay, that’s it,” Kamon said, shaking his head. “I might be able to deal with the fact that it’s literally a fan sprite concocted by a ten year-old‘s imagination, but I can’t deal with it talking.” He made his way back to the desk but the Eeveesquiramachu jumped onto the bottom of his leg, trying to hold him back.

“Don’t delete me!” it pleaded in its high pitched, squeaky voice. “I’ll be nice to you!”

“Let go, you brat!” Kamon shouted, trying to shake his foot free of the being. Eeveesquiramachu hung on tightly though. “You are leaving, and that’s that!”

“Oh, let it stay, Kamon. Just for a few chapters. If it doesn’t work out, we’ll let it get eaten by Houndooms or something. And let me tell you that’s going to be helluva lot more interesting,” Kenta said, bending down to pry Eeveesquiramachu from Kamon’s pants leg. He smiled at it, an evil glint in his eyes as the weird being gulped nervously.

“Don’t you dare!” Marina screeched, grabbing Eeveesquiramachu from Kenta's grasp and cuddling it. “If you kill it, I’ll kill you! If Eeveesquiramachu doesn‘t win your hearts over by the end of this chapter – which it will – then we‘ll … give it to a nice trainer we meet along the road.”

Kamon rolled his eyes. “Fine, fine. I still like Kenta's idea better though.” Returning to the computer, Kamon stared at the word processor, trying to add on to Marina’s idea.

Eeveesquiramachu acknowledged the three trainers. It looked up and giggled. “Hi guys–

“You know what. I can’t do this.” Kamon pushed himself back in the revolving chair, getting pebbles stuck in between the grooves of the wheels. He stood up and stood next to Marina who was still cuddling with Eeveesquiramachu. “I refuse to acknowledge that this thing can talk. It pains me. Kenta, you do it.”

Kenta took hold of the plastic chair and sat in it, spinning around a few times before grabbing a hold of the desk. Cracking his knuckles, he began to think, his eyes closed. “All right. I think I got it.” He opened his eyes and tapped his fingers on the keyboard a few times before typing.

“I am Eeveesquiramachu! I would like to be your friend!” Eeveesquiramachu giggled, flipping backwards and wiggling its ears.

Bending over so her *** was all up in the air and wiggling (or something), Marina, confused, whispered to Pink, “Did it just talk?”

Pink shrugged, crying out quietly.

Marina returned Pink to her Pokéball and dropped to her knees, examining the Eeeveesquiramachu closely, not knowing that Kamon was a few feet away, watching her with the same intensity. “Well, it is kind of cute,” she said, pulling her backpack around to pull out a berry from her zipper compartment. She threw it at the strange being who immediately grabbed and took hold of it, nibbling at it happily. “Aw …”

Meanwhile, Kamon walked behind her. He tapped her on the shoulder, and immediately she turned around, coming face to … crotch with the red-haired trainer. Blushing, Marina turned away but Kamon held her face, making her look at his crotch-region where an odd protrusion poked through his pants.

“Don’t be afraid,” he said, taking her hand and leading it toward his body.

Kenta stopped typing and swiveled around in his chair, oblivious to the shocked looks (and odd positions) of his two friends. “Hey, Marina?” he asked curiously. “Does Eeeveesquirmachu have tentacles?”

“Oh, my god! What the fuck!” Marina screamed, standing up and pushing Kamon away, dropping Eeveesquiramachu with a rough thud. She rushed over toward the computer and furiously began to delete Kenta's latest work.

“You said ‘do it,’ so I started to ‘do it,’” Kenta replied, shifting his eyes to the side suspiciously. “Blame yourself, not me.” He then noticed the weird position Kamon was standing in with his backpack covering the front lower half of his body. “Hey, baby! Is that a banana in your pocket or just a boner? Wait, I think I did that wrong.”

Kamon thwacked the back of Kenta's head with his free hand. “I meant type and add on to Marina’s paragraph! Not … that.”

“Ah, well!” Kenta crossed his arms and huffed, blowing his bangs up. “Maybe you should have made yourself clearer.”

Marina blushed furiously. “All right. So no cannabis and no … uh–”

“Bone raising experiences?” Kenta said between laughs as he dodged another punch Kamon threw at him. “My pun. Did you get it?”

Sighing simultaneously, Kamon and Marina pushed Kenta and his chair a bit and took over the computer, making sure that his final few lines were deleted. Relief quickly washed over both of their faces as Kenta frowned to himself, crossing his arms.

I'm loving that you're going back to Johto! It seems like every fic is either based in Kanto or Sinnoh so this is long overdue. I also love the tongue in cheek humor. Haha aside from Kenta's translated name(blah sorry if I'm beating a dead horse) this story was hilarious and had me rolling. Can;t wait for the next chapter

I'm loving that you're going back to Johto! It seems like every fic is either based in Kanto or Sinnoh so this is long overdue. I also love the tongue in cheek humor. Haha aside from Kenta's translated name(blah sorry if I'm beating a dead horse) this story was hilarious and had me rolling. Can;t wait for the next chapter

Thankies for the review. ^.^ I was debating if I should switch back to Kenta again, but feh. Can't be bothered to go back and change everything around (even though it's a simple copy and paste deal).

I'm with miler567. Johto fecking rules. and while i don't care what you call him, changing his name is simply a Find and Replace job (Ctrl-H)

Eeveesquirramachu (?) was kinda cute. But seriously, I don't think the lads will bond with a amalgam of pokemon that are not meant to be put together. doing so is cruel and wrong. Talking fraks of nature is exactly why cloning is banned... no offense Eeveesquirra- oh, forget it.

KamonxMarina is an interesting ship, but the way you portrayed it was possibly really distressing to the juvenile mind. I don't know why they call such scenes lemon scenes, but i'm guessing it's because their extremely bitter to the youthful imagination.

and, finally...

“Jimmy, the weed is back! The weed is saved!” Kamon said giddily as Jimmy danced, chanting, “The weed, the weed!”

I'm with miler567. Johto fecking rules. and while i don't care what you call him, changing his name is simply a Find and Replace job (Ctrl-H)

Mehbeh. But I gotta do it for three different sites, and SPPF seems to be the only one up in RAWR MODE over the names lol. I'll probably get bored one day and change it up anyway.

Eeveesquirramachu (?) was kinda cute. But seriously, I don't think the lads will bond with a amalgam of pokemon that are not meant to be put together. doing so is cruel and wrong. Talking fraks of nature is exactly why cloning is banned... no offense Eeveesquirra- oh, forget it.

I know. ^_^ It'll be interesting (especially with Kamon). Eeveesquiramachu was only suppose to be a Pikachu and Eevee hybrid, but I wanted an insanely long and annoying name to type out just to make me mad. So I threw in Squirtle.

KamonxMarina is an interesting ship, but the way you portrayed it was possibly really distressing to the juvenile mind. I don't know why they call such scenes lemon scenes, but i'm guessing it's because their extremely bitter to the youthful imagination.

It was toned down but then it just seemed more romantic than lemon-like (though what I wrote was probably more lime. Sweet, sweet limes wasn't as catchy sounding haha). So I had to add something to it. I don't think it's that bad as it was written in a kind of immature way (I quote "Bending over so her *** was all up in the air and wiggling (or something)" <--- don't know why, but that line made me laugh. I complimented myself. Ew).

Jeez Breezeh, I can't even remember the last time I saw you or a fic out here. -_- But this is still some hilarious stuff. Love the *insert really long Poke name here*. tentacles was very funny too. *totally got your idea there.* lol.
Still great as always Breezeh. ^^ But don't take another year to post another chapter of this ok???
jirachiman out

Marina giggled in delight, picking up Eeveesquiramachu and spinning around a few times, holding the odd being arm’s lengths away. “You’re absolutely adorable!” Marina cooed, puckering her lips like she ate something sour. “Yes you are!”

Eeveesquiramachu smiled, nuzzling its furry, little nose with Marina’s fleshy one. “So can I travel with you? I promise I'll be good!”

Marina nodded eagerly as the other two boys stared at the weird creature with wide eyes. “We'd love to have you! Right, guys?”

“Not really,” muttered Kamon, nudging the bug-eyed Kenta with his elbow to snap him out of his daze. “We don't have much choice though, huh?”

“Of course not,” replied Marina with a grin, ignoring Kenta who walked by, giving a swift but clearly apparent middle finger sign to Eeveesquiramachu. Perturbed and kind of curious, Eeveesquiramachu nipped at Kenta's finger, causing the poor boy to shriek and “accidentally” sock the being in the face.

“Brat!” he screeched, shaking his hand before sucking his middle finger.

Eeveesquiramachu started to go teary-eyed, making Marina angrily. Immediately, she punched the boy hard in the arm. “That's for making he ... she–”

“I am a shemale. I can go from being a boy or a girl if I just think about it!” Eeveesquirmachu said, smiling, its mood quickly changing. “I can bond with any gender!”

Kamon snickered from far away (he still had a fun, little surprise in his pants) as Kenta, who was the one typing at the moment, grinned maliciously back, spinning around in the computer chair to face his two friends.

“What’s wrong with being two genders?” Eeveesquiramachu asked innocently, the tears in his/her's eyes more apparent.

“Ugh, Kenta, really?” Marina said, scratching the being on the head to cheer him/her up.

“You wanted original,” Kenta argued in a mutter, avoiding the daggers coming out of the girl’s eyes. “A Pok&#233;mon that can change genders is obviously original.”

“Obviously,” Kamon agreed, smiling smugly.

“Well … Okay,” Marina said hesitantly. “As long as you use this power for good, I guess.”

Kenta grinned, happy that one of his ideas was not actually deleted. “Oh, I will.”

“That’s for making he/she cry!” Marina said with a glare.

“Actually, I’ll be a boy for now,” said Eeveesquiramachu, closing his/her eyes and quivering. He/she then opened his/her eyes. “There, done.”

Kenta blinked, bending over to Eeveesquiramachu’s height and examining closer. “Nothing has changed, you brat.”

“Stop calling me!” Eeveesquiramachu said with a sob.

“Whatever.” Kenta rolled his eyes and walked past the cuddly Marina and Eeveesquiramachu duo and into some shrubbery, trying to find a way out.

Eye-twitching, Kenta hit enter, finishing the scene with Eeveesquiramachu. “You know, we still don’t have a title for our ‘story,’” Kenta remarked, rubbing his arm where Marina hit him. He turned around in the chair, his back toward the computer as he watched Kamon walk toward him awkwardly, his backpack still clutched in front of the lower half of his body for dear life. “Maybe if we think of a title, we’ll be able to plan a story instead of this random crap we keep writing about.” He rotated the chair around to face the computer, the monitor casting a white glow against his pale face. He tapped his fingers against the polished table, leaving fingerprint smudges against its glossy surface. “Let’s see … Our story is in the forest, we found some weed, stuff about that brat Marina is holding-”

“I am not a brat!” Eeveesquiramachu whined, burying his hybrid head into Marina’s chest while sniffling.

“We deleted that,” Kamon muttered, finding it safe to drop his bag onto the table. “So forest, weed, and this brat.” He ignored the Eeveesquiramachu giving him a raspberry. “Hmm … What do we know about popular stories and their titles?”

Marina came over and sat on the desk, dropping Eeveesquiramachu to the floor. She watched him scamper about happily, chasing his curly tail. “Well, most stories have the name of the region they’re in. That way it can attract readers that only read certain regions to the story.”

Eeveesquiramachu stopped chasing his tail and hopped onto the table much to the two boys’ disgust. “You should add ‘legacy’ or ‘legend’ somewhere too,” he said with a giggle, putting his paws to his mouth. “Every author believes their story is epic, and gosh, you better believe that too!”

The hat-wearing boy obliged, inserting a ‘Pok&#233;mon‘ after the colon. “All right. I think we got something,” Kenta replied, inserting the last symbol with a satisfying tap of the keyboard. All three trainers looked at the word processor where the title of the story glared back in its twelve-point, all caps, Times New Roman font:
~o THE LEGACY OF JOHTO: THE POKEMON ESCAPADE o~

Kenta blinked twice, amused. “Ah. So why is there sperm attacking our title?” he asked, taking off his cap and scratching his scalp through his thick hair. “God, Marina. You’re so perverted.”

“I didn’t know it’d look like … that,” Marina said innocently.

“It’s obviously symbolic,” replied Kamon with a smirk. “The symbols, representing sperm like you said, are going to fertilize the egg, or our title. By doing so, we are creating something unique … Something special.” He pumped his fist into the air, empowered. “The birth of our ‘fic … It has begun!”

“Riiight,” Kenta muttered, rolling his eyes, throwing his hat back on. “Whatever. If you’re both fine with random sperm in the title, then it’s fine with me too.” He used the mouse to scroll back down to the end of the document, enjoying the pleasant clicking. “Now let us see if we can actually get somewhere in this ‘fic.” Cracking his knuckles, Kenta began to type.

Kenta pushed his way through the shrubbery, almost snagging his baseball cap on a dry tree branch overhead. “I think I see a clearing up ahead,” he said, beckoning Marina and Kamon toward him. “We can set up camp there for tonight.” He jumped out of the shrubbery, stumbling over his feet, crunching leaves underneath his shoes. Groaning, he regained his balance, walking further into the open clearing.

Towering oaks trees, their leaves rustling in the wind to unknown music, sheltered the small clearing like a protective mother watching over her children. The soft, green grass was long and thick, littered with patches of white dandelions. The dandelion seeds released themselves from their source, hitching a ride on the breeze, floating in a graceful dance before finding rest among the grass. Kenta couldn’t help but admire the sky – especially after not seeing it for so long. It seemed like god himself took a fistful of twinkling stars and scattered them across the dark blue canvas. Caught in between a period of light and dark, Kenta couldn’t help but marvel at the last groping rays of sunlight reaching for the tops of the hills while the moon, in its shining, silver glory, rose from the depths, eyeing down menacingly on the setting sun.

As soon as Kenta hit the enter key, the three trainers felt the world around them rush past them, the wind blowing back their clothing. Time seemed to speed up as the sun, once overhead, moved toward the position where Kenta wrote it was, casting the world in eerie darkness. They abruptly stopped in the clearing where Hoothoots cried in their trees and Houndours barked toward the moon.

“Neat,” was all Kenta said, wheeling himself backward in his chair to look around. “Let’s do the time warp againnnn!”

“This is pretty, Kenta,” Marina commented with a smile, admiring Kenta’s work. She jumped off the desk, crushing down the long grass beneath her shoes. She spotted a dandelion and picked it up, blowing the seeds annoyingly at Kamon. “I have to admit you did well this time.”

Kenta grinned back, puffing out his chest with pride.

The redhead couldn‘t help but roll his eyes, brushing the white dandelion seeds off his clothing. “Yeah, but it took you a helluva long time just to say that it’s twilight,” muttered Kamon. “Why couldn’t you just say twilight was coming?”

Kamon looked up, pensive, his silver eyes sparkling. “One thing has, actually. It was a long time ago. T’was a nice day, and I found myself walking along the river. I sat upon the banks, dipping my bare feet into the crisp water, and to my surprise, a few ducks swam my way, nipping at my feet. Digging into my backpack, I found half a slice of bread from my lunch earlier that day. I ripped the piece of bread into crumbs and threw it toward the ducks. Those ducks sure can eat, but unfortunately, it wasn‘t enough to satisfy their hunger.”

Kenta and Marina looked at each other oddly but let the rambling redhead continue with his story.

“Looking back on that day, I can’t help but wonder,” Kamon said, his eyes glazed over as he drifted into his thoughts. “What if I had brought more bread for the ducks? Did I … Did I bring this on myself?”

“Uh …” Kenta ignored the wistful Kamon and continued typing.
Lowering his eyes, Kenta walked further into the clearing, Marina and Kamon closely behind. Like a magnet, his eyes were attracted toward a golden statue in the middle of the clearing, its glistening surface beckoning him over. He was like a bug; he couldn’t help but walk over, entranced by the shine.

“What do you think it is?” Kenta said, coming closer to the statue.

“Meh, writer’s block,” Kenta said after a few minutes of sitting at the computer. “Someone else want to take over?” He glanced at Marina who was busy cuddling with Eeveesquiramachu again and then Kamon, still thinking about the ducks. “Hello?” He finally snapped his fingers in front of Kamon’s face, breaking Kamon free from his thoughts.

“Ugh, thanks,” Kamon murmured, holding a hand to his head. “Sure. I’ll try to add on to the crap you spewed.”

Kenta said nothing (though a distinct growl was heard from the back of his throat) as he got up from the chair, hopping onto the table, making it shake. Kamon sat down in the chair and took a deep breath before writing.

Kenta started to examine the statue from the bottom. The statue stood on a thick, white marble pillar, carvings decorated into its side. His eyes slowly trailed up, noticing that the statue was standing with its long, golden feet spread apart. Its hips were curvy, and its arms were grabbing at its waistline. What was above this though Kenta didn’t know, for his eyes stopped and rested at the huge rack the statue had. He did, however, feel several presences surround him. Casting one eye toward the side (though he still had one eye on the enormous jugs of the statue), he saw several Pok&#233;mon encircle, eyeballing the statue with the same gaze.

Like an invisible sculptor, the gold statue started to chip at itself, forming into the statue that Kamon previously described. Both boys quickly turned their heads toward the statue, their eyes wide and their jaws dropped. Pok&#233;mon began to scurry from the bushes and treetops, surrounding the statue.

Marina looked dully at the two boys, sighing. “Of course. This is a story, not some place where all your sick, twisted fantasies can take form.”

“I am offended, Marina,” Kamon said, ripping his eyes away from the statue to look at Marina. “I am truly offended. I was merely admiring the artwork of the statue. However this pervert over here–” he nudged his head in Kenta’s direction who was standing near the statue, “–is the one who’s staring at the … badonkers on that statue.”

“Everyone loves the boobies!” Kenta said, gawking at the statue, his eyes wide.

“Ugh. Whatever!” Marina said with a huff, blowing up her bangs.

Suddenly, a single, thin steel railing drop from the sky, standing upright. Alarmed, Marina shifted Eeveesquiramachu to one hand and walked over toward the bar, poking it with her index finger. She jumped back in surprise as another bar dropped a few inches away. Steadily gaining speed, more bars began to drop from the sky, surrounding the three by all four sides. To top it off, a heavy steel-plated wall dropped on top of the bars, enclosing the three in a make-shift jail cell.

“Dammit, Marina,” muttered Kenta, hesitantly walking away from the statue to put his hands against the cold bars. “’Whatever’ must have been the secret word.”

Kamon got up from his chair and stood in between Kenta and Marina. He grabbed a hold of the bars and shook them violently, but it was to no avail – the bars stood firm. “What the hell is this?”

“I’m scurred,” Eeveesquiramachu said, sniffling.

The three trainers watched as three men in black suits walked toward them, pushing away the shrubbery with ease. The man in front was tall, his face cold and emotionless. The man to his right was chubbier but meek, looking frantically from side to side. The other man had his hands held behind his neck, sighing thoughtfully to himself. They reached the cage, and the man in front grinned nastily. “Kenta, Kamon, and Marina,” he said. “It is time for your evaluation of your story. A ‘review’ if you will.”

O this is gonna be good. ^^ Funny stuff breezeh. ^^; I actually laughed out loud. ^^ * I apparently don't during comdey fics sometimes.* But it's always a good thing when I laugh out loud.
Man what to comment what to comment. Lol. Sexual references are always good and nice. I loved Kenta's quote. "gotta love teh boobies" O funny. ^^
I really liked Kenta's description which was in turn your beautiful description. Nicely done. *like I wouldn't expect it any other way.* ^^
Can't wait to see what happens now. *seems like the only person here* -_-
jirachiman out

It's time...

And the craziness continues...

Marina looked dully at the two boys, sighing. “Of course. This is a story, not some place where all your sick, twisted fantasies can take form.”

“I am offended, Marina,” Kamon said, ripping his eyes away from the statue to look at Marina. “I am truly offended. I was merely admiring the artwork of the statue. However this pervert over here–” he nudged his head in Kenta’s direction who was standing near the statue, “–is the one who’s staring at the … badonkers on that statue.”

“Everyone loves the boobies!” Kenta said, gawking at the statue, his eyes wide.

OK, Kenta. Calm down... XD

“Ugh. Whatever!” Marina said with a huff, blowing up her bangs.

Suddenly, a single, thin steel railing drop from the sky, standing upright. Alarmed, Marina shifted Eeveesquiramachu to one hand and walked over toward the bar, poking it with her index finger. She jumped back in surprise as another bar dropped a few inches away. Steadily gaining speed, more bars began to drop from the sky, surrounding the three by all four sides. To top it off, a heavy steel-plated wall dropped on top of the bars, enclosing the three in a make-shift jail cell.

“Dammit, Marina,” muttered Kenta, hesitantly walking away from the statue to put his hands against the cold bars. “’Whatever’ must have been the secret word.”

Kamon got up from his chair and stood in between Kenta and Marina. He grabbed a hold of the bars and shook them violently, but it was to no avail – the bars stood firm. “What the hell is this?”

“I’m scurred,” Eeveesquiramachu said, sniffling.

The three trainers watched as three men in black suits walked toward them, pushing away the shrubbery with ease. The man in front was tall, his face cold and emotionless. The man to his right was chubbier but meek, looking frantically from side to side. The other man had his hands held behind his neck, sighing thoughtfully to himself. They reached the cage, and the man in front grinned nastily. “Kenta, Kamon, and Marina,” he said. “It is time for your evaluation of your story. A ‘review’ if you will.”

“Ah … Crap.”

DUN....DUN.... DUUUUUUUN!

Oh noez, not da reviews! I could literally see Psychic, Yami Ryu and Silawen dressed in mobster suits glaring the trio and their odd little fakemon down. Hope Marina has a permit for Eeveesquirrmachu!

I actually laughed out loud. ^^ * I apparently don't during comdey fics sometimes.* But it's always a good thing when I laugh out loud.
Man what to commentwhat to comment. Lol. Sexual references are always good and nice. I loved Kenta's quote. "gotta love teh boobies" O funny. ^^
I really liked Kenta's description which was in turn your beautiful description. Nicely done. *like I wouldn't expect it any other way.* ^^

I used to describe better. ._. I was a huge fan of personification, but I just lost it. Oh wellsies. Glad you found it funny though and that you actually laughed. :3

Can't wait to see what happens now. *seems like the only person here* -_-

I refer more to the views than the actual posts to see if someone is reading now lol. As long as that keeps going up, I'm pretty confident that someone is reading (not unless you or Air DARGON keep hitting my title a few times a day, lol). It's not an appeal-to-all story, so I understand why it's not read as much. :3

Oh noez, not da reviews! I could literally see Psychic, Yami Ryu and Silawen dressed in mobster suits glaring the trio and their odd little fakemon down. Hope Marina has a permit for Eeveesquirrmachu!

I've been observing, so hopefully I can get three types of reviewers right (the know-it-all, grammar nazi, and indifferent, THIS IS GREAT reviewer). Should be interesting. ^_^

Wow, this is the most original 'fic i've ever read! Seriously, its a work of art. I love it so much. I really hope you conitnue with this, it is such a brilliant idea.

Best part:

"Oh, I've read some of those color mood eye ficcys or whatever they're called," Jimmy remarked, pulling an apple out of his bag and biting into it with a juicy crunch. He chewed it thoughtfully before swallowing. "They're always girls. Well usually. 'Her eyes were a bright blue because she was getting her first Pok&#233;mon today, indicating she was happy.' Well, obviously she's going to be happy; any trainer would be happy to get their first Pok&#233;mon. We don't need your eyes to tell us that."

"That was actually . . . smart, Jimmy."

"Thanks Marina! I've also noticed that they don't have an eye color for horny either."

“R-E-V-I … Oh, for the love of god! You’re reviewers?” muttered the redhead, grabbing at the railings and shaking them. “Is that even fair? We’re not even halfway done with the first chapter!”

“All the better to get this over with then,” muttered the man in front, rubbing his temples. “This way you’ll know whether or not you’re cut out for this … story making business.”

This made Kamon raise an eyebrow. “Making a story isn’t a ‘business,’” he muttered, sighing. “Story writing should be enjoyable. You don’t get paid, you aren’t glorified; hell, you barely get recognition for it. I don’t see why I should take your word whether or not I, or we, should write or not. I write for myself.”

“Likewise, you’re hoping for some sort of recognition by posting on the Internet, so that whole entire ‘I write for myself, and I don‘t care what anyone else thinks’ is just a whole lot of bullshit,” coolly replied the man in front. “Anyway, do you mind printing out a few copies of your story for us to read? We’ll start from there.”

With a poke in the side and a nudge in the shoulder, Marina, her eyes wide, snapped Kenta out of his daze and pointed toward the computer with a shaky finger. Groaning, Kenta trudged his way toward the computer and plopped himself in the chair, grabbing the sides of the table so the chair would stop moving. After several clicks and the shaking of machinery, the rattling and rumbling of the printer commenced, coughing up sheet after sheet of story. With a squeak of wheels, Kenta pushed himself backward in the chair toward the bars, his hand tightly gripping the sheets. He then reluctantly slipped the papers in between the gap of the bars and into the willing hands of the man in front, a mischievous grin on his face.

“Give us a minute,” said the man with the apathetic face as the three reviewers turned around and walked a little bit away from the three trainers, their heads bent over as they read the story.

Being evaluated and reviewed was an odd sensation to Kamon. It kind of felt like he were an animal in the zoo (though being caged probably helped allude to that). He felt powerless; he couldn’t stop the reviewers from judging him. There were only so many things he could do as they pried him with a stick: Growl back or act nice in hopes of getting fed a peanut.

Kamon watched the reviewers with observant eyes. The leader, who he officially dubbed the Cynical Asshole, or C.A. for short, was marking up his paper with a smirk while the chubby one, who he called a Fat Load of Persuasion (or Fat Load) since he seemed unable to form his own opinion, was peeking back and forth between his peers sneakily (or what, Kamon assumed, Fat Load thought was sneaky). The third, he noticed, was flipping through the pages more quickly than his colleagues, occasionally marking up the paper with his red pen.

Minutes passed – though it felt likes hours – until the reviewers came back, the Cynical Asshole flapping the papers in his hand mockingly, making Kamon snarl. The three trainers then watched as C.A snapped his fingers, and magically, the bars began to disintegrate before their eyes, melting into a pool of something black and ink-like before being absorbed mysteriously by the grass itself.

Silence. Tense, awkward silence.

There was a slight squeak, the rustling of grass underneath a fidgety foot, and the clearing of the throat that caught everyone’s attention. The sound came from no one other than the Fat Load and a squirming, twitchy one at that.

Rubbing his lips together to moisten them, the Fat Load began, “It’s okay. I guess. I like that you started off in a different way with the whole getting lost … thing instead of some terrible, clich&#233; beginning.”

This caused C.A. to roll his eyes. “Jumping straight into character description is a terrible way to start a chapter, especially in a huge, wall-of-text way like that. There wasn't anything necessarily interesting about it either. No hook. No anything.”

“I mean, I’ll give you credit,” started C.A., reading through his notes, paying no attention to his squealing, porky colleague. “You tried to make it so it wasn’t just pounding of character description after character description by trying to embed it with action. You failed, obviously. But nice try. Pat on the back. Etcetera.”

It was Marina’s turn to grumble since she was the one that dealt with the first portion of the chapter.

C.A. continued, ignoring the growls coming from Marina. “And there’s something … ridiculously random about your entire piece. You hop from this cannabis idea to whatever … that thing is–” at this, he pointed toward the hissing Eeveesquiramachu on Marina’s shoulder, “–to that statue thing.” He turned his head toward the glimmering, goddess-like statue that Kamon and Kenta wrote about earlier. “All in the span of three pages as well. Are you just writing whatever comes to mind?”

The three said nothing since it was true.

C.A. rolled his eyes. “What about you?” he asked the man to his left as Fat Load was still squirming and squeaking to himself. “Don’t you have anything to say?”

The gawky man that Kamon forgot to nickname (he supposed he didn’t care what he would say) shrugged and flipped through his papers. “Hmm … Well, you forgot a comma after ‘Hi, guys,’ when Eeveesquir–whatever started talking. Oh, and you should have used ‘your’ instead of ‘you’re,’ but I forgot where. Other than that, good job!” He gave the thumbs up, smiling wide.

This caused C.A. and the three trainers to blink twice. “Is that all you’ve got to say?” murmured C.A., slapping his forehead.

“What?” asked the nameless reviewer. “You mean you can comment on more besides grammer?”

Sighing, C.A. continued to speak on behalf of his colleagues. “You really need to work on developing your ideas properly. Everything seems so half-baked and-”

Then there was a loud squeal, almost pig-like, that interrupted C.A. though the group ignored it as the cry of a wild Pidgey getting chomped on by a Houndour. But the squeal became louder and more frantic, and the sound of wings flapping among the trees and the scampering of tiny feet floated in their direction. The scampering turned into thumping and then frenzied pounding as a girl, probably no older than thirteen with long, untamed hair and wild, brown eyes, came running into the clearing. She then stopped, her crazy eyes sweeping over the terrain before landing on Kenta sitting in the computer chair who felt the eccentric presence target him, causing him to shriek, terrified. With another loud squeal as a battle cry, she beelined toward him, thrusting herself upon his puzzled, startled self, and the two collided into a heap of human bodies and computer chair parts, the wheels from the chair spinning.

“Uh …” Kenta didn’t know how to respond as Kamon raised an eyebrow and Marina covered her mouth to hide her giggles.

“Ugh. I thought we ditched your sister back in Goldenrod,” complained C.A., watching the spectacle in front of him.

“Her love of Kenta is like a magnet,” replied Fat Load quietly, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “It doesn’t surprise me that she found us, or him, really.” He waddled over toward the shrilling Kenta and the screaming girl and pried the girl off the poor boy. He then held on tight to her hips as she kicked and screeched, her arms flailing as she tried to reach for Kenta who was groggily getting back onto his feet.

“Lemme go!” she whined, trying to scratch at her brother. “I must breathe in his scent! I must whiff in his soul!”

C.A. muttered a stream of incoherent curse words before handing the squirming girl a copy of the trainers’ story. “Here. Read this. It has your ‘precious’ in it. Tell us what you think.”

Fat Load released the Fan Girl (as Kamon dubbed her his mind) as soon as she grabbed the paper, her eyes darting across the pages, flipping through them in a mad rush. She then released another high pitched squeal and threw the papers up into the air. The papers scattered and fluttered toward earth in a dizzying spiral.

“It’s great!” she exclaimed gleefully. Fan Girl then raised her arms, wiggling all ten of her fingers. “Ten out of ten! Five stars! Three Pikachus and a Pichu!”

“Anyway …” C.A. sighed as Fan Girl began to goggle at a restless Kenta again, a thin stream of drool tricking from her mouth down her chin. “You need to work on properly developing your ideas, and, you know, having something that attracts your readers other than your presence in the story. Because really, you’re going to only have freaks like these–” he nudged his head toward Fan Girl blowing a bewildered Kenta kisses, “–end up reading your story, and I don’t think that’s what you were aiming for.” He then motioned with his head toward the forest behind him. “Until then though, we’re out of here. Drag your sister, will you?”

Fat Load grumbled but grabbed Fan Girl by the hips again, dragging her by the heels, and the four exited into some shrubbery, brushing past them again with ease.

“Update soon!” Fan Girl cried cheerfully, waving wildly toward the three trainers. All of a sudden, rage and fire overtook her calm, brown eyes, and her hair began to blow uncontrollably in the wind. Then she growled, her voice lower than usual, “Or else I will hunt you down and murder you! Slowly … But pleasantly.” She then giggled. “Okay, bye!”

Blink.

Shudder.

Twitch.

“What the fuck was that?” observed Kenta after those few seconds of shock passed over the three trainers. “Are all girls that crazy?”

“Only fan girls,” replied Kamon dully, walking over to the computer desk. “Irritating, crazy, hyperactive fan girls. Anyway, that was annoying. Why should we listen to those three dolts?”

The girl shrugged in reply, picking up the fallen computer chair off the ground and dusting it off before sitting down in it. “I mean, they got a point,” Marina remarked, setting Eeveesquiramachu in her lap. “Where exactly are we going with this? We’re just writing what’s on the top of our mind. We never took a moment to plan or figure out what will attract readers or … anything. We need something that sets us apart.”

Thus commenced the process of planning. Kamon paced the ground in front of the computer desk, his arms clasped behind his back, his eyebrows furrowed, flattening grass and daffodils beneath his sneakers while Marina sat in the computer chair, her head bowed down thoughtfully as she idly ran her hands through a sleeping Eeveesquiramachu’s fur. She looked up, admiring the night sky. The reviewers were with them so long that the drowsy night air overcame the twilight sky, the sparkling stars more apparent, and the glowing silver of the moon basking the clearing in an eerie yet romantic glow.

Kenta, however, didn’t want to bother with this “thinking” thing and blurted out the first thing that came to mind. Snapping his fingers, he said, “Let’s get superpowers!”

Both Kamon and Marina snapped their heads up glared at their sheepishly smiling friend at this statement.

“It’s kind of original isn‘t it?”

More glares.

“Don’t judge it until we try it out,” remarked Kenta, running past the golden statue (though he did give it a quick look up and down) and toward the bushes. He stopped, dropping onto his knees and brushing past the shrubbery, his hands getting scratched up by the sharp branches of the bush. He then sought what he was searching for; a spider. Tenderly, the boy put his finger into the spider’s sticky web, and the spider crawled onto it.

Excited, Kenta carefully pushed himself up and walked over toward the two, Marina, squeaking in fear, jumped up from the seat and ran behind Kamon as she clutched Eeveesquiramachu tightly. Kamon, meanwhile, raised an eyebrow, amused. “Look, guys! A spider! Maybe it’s radioactive! Maybe I’ll get spider powers!”

Kamon peered down at the spider in Kenta’s hand. Granted, it wasn’t the hugest of spiders, but it was big enough to send shivers down his spine. It was brown and hairy, its long legs wrapping themselves around Kenta’s fingers.

“It’s fate,” Kenta said firmly, nodding, switching hands to hold the spider, marveling at it. “It’s fate that I found it in the bush. It must mean it’s special thus making ME special. So I must get superpowers!”

The redhead rubbed his temples at this statement. “I don’t think it’s fate, Kenta. I think a lot of spiders make their webs in bushes,” replied Kamon, noticing the quivering Marina brushing up against him. He pushed her away. “And for Raikou’s sake, Marina! It’s just a spider! Stop touching me!”

“I don’t care,” she squeaked, trembling as Eeveesquirmachu squeezed out her grasp and crawled onto her shoulder, patting her on the head comfortingly. “It’s still disgusting!”

This made Kenta smirk. He walked over to Marina, holding out the hand that held the spider. “Touch it,” he dared, his eyes glinting with mischievousness.

“Touch what?” mentioned a chuckling Kamon, though his comment was ignored due to the girl’s screaming.

“I said get away!” she shrieked, knocking Kenta’s arms away from her.

Time went in slow motion once the spider flew up from Kenta’s hand and into the night air. All four of them looked up, open-mouthed, as the spider flipped not once, not twice, but three times. It then slowly fell toward earth, spiraling, before landing on Kenta’s forearm. Clearly angry, the spider hissed before reeling backward onto its back legs, showing off its fangs. It then bit deeply into Kenta’s arm and then ripped its fangs away triumphantly, breaking flesh, causing a trickle of blood to run down the boy's arm.

Startled, Kenta used his free hand to knock the spider away, flicking it off his arm. He then fell backwards, his body going stiff, his jaw dropped, knocking his head hard against the dirt. Stars blurred his vision, and he felt his body quake, the fresh wound on his arm stinging against the cold wind.

“I think you killed him,” was the last thing he heard uttered from Kamon’s mouth. “Good job, Marina.”

- - -

When Kenta stirred from unconsciousness, he realized he wasn’t in Kentucky anymore.

Or the forest.

Or whatever.

Wait. Wasn’t it Kansas?

He shifted a bit, hearing the crinkling of paper underneath his bottom. Through squinted eyes, he noticed a bright light swinging over his head (though it could be his own eyes deceiving him) and some sort of hard, rough padding beneath his back which he assumed was suppose to cushion him, but it made him feel more stiff. It was cold, cold enough to prick up the hairs on his arms. There was a distinct stench in the air, smelling like an odd combination of latex gloves and bitter medicine he was force fed when he was younger.

“… Don't worry, Marina,” he heard someone say as his hazy vision became crisper. “It is just a spider bite.”

“It can’t be ’just a spider bite’ if he has a swelling the size of a golf ball,” replied Marina worriedly, peering over Kenta’s body. He tried his best not to squirm uncomfortably underneath the girl’s gaze; there was something about Marina staring at him so anxiously that made him feel an odd, awkward sensation in the pit of his stomach.

Kenta opened his eyes a bit more and saw the doctor rub his fingers down his chiseled jaw line before stopping at his short, curly brown beard. “True. It would be easier to diagnosis if you brought the spider with you, but I work with what I have.”

“So … so it’s not radioactive or anything like that, Doctor?” the girl asked naively, nervously scratching a purring Eeveesquiramachu behind the ear.

“Of course not,” the doctor chuckled, pushing up the frames of his square glasses. “It’s not radioactive. It was a regular, ole spider. A big one. But a regular one nonetheless.”

“Fuck that,” Kenta murmured, sitting up, feeling woozy. His head was pounding, and the tips of his fingers were throbbing. Heat penetrated beneath the thick, white bandage that covered his bite. “My spidey sense is tingling!”

“That’s nerve damage,” replied the doctor in a dull voice. He looked from Kenta’s wound to his two friends standing next to the table he sat upon. “He should be fine; it was only a dry bite, and if there was any venom, it should have bled out. It’ll scab over in a few weeks.” The doctor turned around and picked up a clipboard behind it. He pulled out a pen and scribbled on a piece of paper clipped on the clipboard, the pen scratching against the hard, wooden surface. “Now if you excuse me, I have to attend to another patient. You‘re free to go as you please. Make sure you don’t scratch it, Kenta.” And with that, the doctor left, swinging open the heavy, metal door and letting it close slowly behind him.

“Yeah, yeah.” The boy hopped off the table, barely able to balance on his wobbly legs, and then patted the top of his head, feeling the silk of his hair. He then turned around, glaring, noticing the Eeveesquiramachu wearing his cap in a backward fashion on Marina’s shoulder.

“Aren’t I cute?” giggled the freak, putting its claws over its mouth to contain its laughter.

Kenta stomped over to the girl, the pounding of his shoes slapping on the tile floor echoing through the tiny room, and snatched the hat from Eeveesquiramachu’s head, promptly slapping its furry, little, hybrid head soon after. The being cried, causing Marina to glare at Kenta and sock him in the arm as always.

“Quit picking on Eevee … squir … am … You know what?” Marina picked up the crying hybrid from her shoulder and cradled it in her arms soothingly. She leaned against the table Kenta was lying on and rocked her arms back and forth in a peaceful manner. “We should nickname you so we don’t have to call you that ridiculously long name anymore. Would you like that?”

“Ugh, nothing that Marina picks hopefully,” muttered Kenta, rubbing his arm where Marina punched him. He quickly sidestepped as Marina swung at him again. “Hit me, baby. One more time.”

“I would if you stopped moving,” grumbled Marina, putting the now calm Eeveesquiramachu back on her shoulder. “What’s wrong with my nicknames? I like the nicknames for my Pok&#233;mon!”

Kamon, who had stayed quiet all this time, piped in, “Well, they’re pretty … uncreative. I mean, Pink for a Jigglypuff? Oh, and let’s not mention that you spelled ‘Miss’ wrong for your Misdreavus‘ nickname, Little Mis or something like that. And what the hell is a Wani or whatever the hell your Croconaw is called?”

“There’s only one ‘s’ in ’Misdreavus,’” snapped Marina, glaring at the redhead who looked toward the ceiling and whistled to himself innocently. “And I think a wani is some sort of sea monster in Japanese mythology. Or something. I forgot. Either way, there’s nothing wrong with my nicknames.”

“You know what I mean. But if you think you’re so good at pet names,” at this, Marina hopped on the table and smiled smugly at the frowning Kamon, “why don’t you think of a name for Eeveesquiramachu?”

“Fine. I’ll teach you a thing or two too,“ muttered the redhead, leaning on the desk. “The key to a good pet name,” he began, closing his eyes and holding his pointer finger up, causing his two companions to look at each other with dismay, “is the combination of affectionate nouns. Honeybuns, for example. Sweetiepie. Babyboo.”

“Bunnytits?” remarked Kenta absentmindedly.

“Ooh, good one.”

Kenta played with his bangs, oblivious to his earlier comment, trying to adjust it into his regular hairstyle before adjusting the sides of his hat to fit snugly around his head. Finally satisfied, it finally dawned on him at what he said, and his eyes widened at the possibilities. “Oh, sweet Raikou. I am dubbing thee Bunnytits, Bunnytits!”

“No!” exclaimed a peeved Marina, her nose wrinkling in disgust. “We are not calling Eeveesquiramachu that! I like Babyboo, like Kamon suggested.”

“That was more of an example,” murmured Kamon, rolling his eyes to the side.

“Come, Bunnytits!” Kenta said happily, ignoring the fuming girl and patting his shoulder warmly. “We’ll just be like Ash and Pikachu except I’ve gone through puberty and am not asexual like a plant!”

“Neato!” cried Bunnytits, hopping from Marina’s shoulder to Kenta’s and wrapping its curly tail around Kenta’s neck. “We’ll be the best of friends!” And with that Kenta, a smug smile on his face and his shoulder triumphantly lifted, marched out the door with an eye rolling Kamon behind him.

The girl gaped, her mouth wide. “Doesn’t anyone listen to me anymore?” Marina cried out in anguish, placing her hands on her hips and scuffing the cold, tile flooring with the ball of her foot. Annoyed that the two left without her, she trudged behind, her shoulder feeling bare without “Bunnytits’” presence no longer on it. She walked down the long hallway of the doctor’s office, the tips of her shoelaces getting caught in the rough, blue carpet in the process. The automated glass doors opened in front of her with a pleasing swishing noise, and the chilly, biting air nipped at her bare flesh. She then headed toward a bench where Kamon and Kenta sat, a sleek, silver laptop stationed on Kenta’s lap.

“Psh!” she heard Kenta snort, watching him blow up the bangs that danced across his forehead. “Kicking and punching when you’re asleep is not a symptom of Periodic Limb Movement Disorder! It’s called fighting crime in your sleep!”

“You’re not going to give up this ‘superpower’ thing easily, are you?” Marina questioned, sitting next to the redhead. She leaned over a bit to look at the screen.

“Of course not,” replied Kenta, not looking up from the screen. “Obviously if you wear a hat in the Pok&#233;mon world, especially in a ridiculous fashion like mine, that means you’re hardheaded and idiotic.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” Kenta quickly replied, his eyes darting back and forth suspiciously. Licking his dry, cracked lips, Kenta’s eyebrows began to furrow together as he scrolled down the screen quicker, searching a medical website for more “superhero” symptoms as fondly typed up in the search engine. He then yelped in surprise as Kamon swiped the laptop away from him.

Ignoring the howling hat-wearing boy and his chattering Bunnytits, Kamon clicked out of Kenta’s web browser and pulled a USB flash stick from his pocket, inserting it into its appropriate slot. “I do have an idea,” he muttered, starting up the word processor and opening the file that their story was on. “About getting people’s attention, anyway. I myself don’t like it in any way, shape or form, but it should be … ‘fun’ to write about. At least for me.” He then smirked, causing Kenta and Marina to look at each other suspiciously. This made his sneer grow wider. “Very fun indeed.”

Uhh, you put chucked instead of chuckled a few times.. Unless it was supposed to be chucked O.o
Lol anyway, pretty funny with the R-E-V-I-E-Wers lol and the Fan Girl. Loved the chapter, and how the girl got really wierd about not updating the story, its just like what some people do XD It has been VERY FUN INDEED to read this
Really, just posting to say i loved it, i laughed at it and have read it.